


Dark Hearts

by IJustWriteHere (orphan_account)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dismemberment, Gen, I am a mean writer, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mutilation, Ozluminati, Pre-Volume 3 (RWBY), Psychological Torture, Qrow Branwen Needs a Hug, Volume 3 (RWBY), Volume 3 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/IJustWriteHere
Summary: "They had reason to assume you'd been compromised!" Winter's accusation was hard, but true. Their fear entirely justified.But that accusation raises a new question: Just who holds Qrow's leash now? And what are their intentions for the good Kingdom of Vale?Author's Note:Admittedly a reupload, but I've decided to post this story both in 'Wrath of God and All its Fury' and as its own standalone. I feel that being part of a second story kind of takes away from interest in this story.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Glynda Goodwitch, Qrow Branwen & James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen & Ozpin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

The loud clanking rhythm of the giant clockwork gears suspended within the transparent ceiling and floor sounded a ticking metronome for Winter Schnee’s discontent. She stalked back and forth, hands clasped behind her back and unconsciously matching the steady heartbeat of the office’s inner mechanisms.

General Ironwood was a man far more patience than she, at least on the surface. He leaned back on Headmaster Ozpin’s desk with his arms crossed and a thunderous expression on his face while they waited for the source of their mutual ire.

Over the course of her life, Winter had dealt with more than her fair share of humiliations and insults. And to be so utterly… well, she loathed to describe the haughty exchange as her being ‘bested’, but that arrogant braggart openly made a mockery of her.

Worst still, the man seemed to do it while completely inebriated, and it seemed as though his singular purpose for that entire messy encounter was to get under her skill. To force Winter to lose her composure in front of civilians – in front of her superior officer! – in a deliberate attempt to instill a sense of distrust between the population and their Atlesian guardians.

Was he trying to sow discord among them?

The elevator chime snatched their attention from their pondering and the doors swished open, revealing the object of their irritation. Qrow Branwen glanced up and flashed a cheeky smirk while Headmaster Ozpin and Deputy-Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch moved based him.

“Well?!” Winter barked, utterly incredulous.

“It’s something you draw water out of with a buckle.” Qrow answered, casually sauntering into the room.

Ozpin had assumed his chair and folded his hands together while Glynda stood at the Headmaster’s side, arms folded with a judgmental expression.

“What were you _thinking_?!” Winter demanded, to hell with protocol.

The drunk Huntsman shrugged dismissively, slipping a hand into his breast pocket to retrieve the silver and leather clad flask.

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you shot!” Ironwood snapped, his temper at its end.

“If I was one of your men, I’d shoot myself.” The Huntsman rolled his eyes, taking a swig.

“While I wouldn’t condone his behaviour,” Goodwitch gave Qrow a hard glare reserved for those in the hell of her displeasure, which he equally ignored, “retaliating the way you did certainly didn’t help matters. Were you both trying to spark an international incident with that moronic display? Innocent lives could’ve gotten caught in the crossfire and we’d of had a massive scandal on our hands.”

“He was drunk!” Winter protested in her defense. She would not take being chastised lying down, especially when she didn’t start the verbal spat.

“He’s always drunk!”

“Why oh why am I always drunk, I wonder?” Qrow mused out loud, affecting a philosophical tone as he considered his flask and ran this thumb over the faded leather embossing, “It is because I just like the taste? The burn as it goes down? I like the neat little buzz and I enjoy messing with people for a laugh? Existential dread? Or is it because we’re fighting a super-secret war against a super-secret enemy that may as well be the gods-damned devil herself? One with enough Grimm under her command to slaughter the whole _fucking_ planet?”

Winter’s brows furrowed in confusion. She came to the conclusion that he truly was drunk, even for him. To spin such a whimsical tale –

“Schnee.” Ironwood’s tone was hard, and brooked no argument. It cut to the quick of her thoughts. “Leave. Now. We’ll discuss this incident back on my ship.”

“But sir—”

“I gave you an order.” The General growled.

Winter’s protest died on her tongue. Military discipline kicked in and she promptly saluted her superior office with a nod. She turned about face and made her way to the elevator. The rest of the gathering remained silent until the doors closed and the compartment descended.

In an instant, Ironwood rounded on Qrow, indignant anger surging in his voice. “How dare you-!”

“If you didn’t want your precious runaway heiress in the know, then maybe you should think twice before inviting her to the adult’s table next time.” Qrow shot back, completely unfazed and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Who the hell invited her, anyways?”

“ ** _Qrow_** …” Ozpin had reached his wit’s end. He did allow his trusted confidants to quarry in their own time, but his patience with these antics was rapidly reaching its limit. “Why are you here? You’re assignment –”

“You’ve been out of contact for weeks! You can’t just go dark like that in the field!” Ironwood lectured, cutting the other headmaster off.

Qrow snorted derisively at the General, pointing a finger to Ozpin. “Do I look like one of your little cheerleaders, Jimmy? Last I checked, you’re not the one signing my pay cheques. Maybe if you were, I’d be interested in what you’d have to say. But right now, I need you to shut up and listen to me.”

Qrow took a step back and drew in a small breath to calm his own irritated humours. “I hate to break it to you, but the bad guys are already here.”

Gylnda nodded grimly, "We know." 

Qrow's voice rose in irritation, "Oh! Oh you already know? Well, thank the gods I'm out there risking my life to keep all of you informed!"

"We had reason to assume you'd been compromised." Ironwood stated coldly, his manner unyielding.

"And, who the hell put you in charge?" Qrow cut back hard, "As just established; I don't work for you, James. That's not your call to make."

"Qrow-!"

"Communication's a two-way street pal. See, if you look here on your scroll, point it out with me here, see that little button right there?" Qrow pulled his black and gold scroll from his pocket and rather patronizingly pointed towards it. "It's called the 'send' button!"

"Alright, enough!" Glynda Goodwitch cut in, putting herself between the two men and pushing them apart. She carried the tone of a strict authoritarian. "We'll be trapped in this office forever if you two keep this up. So, instead of continuing this dick-measuring contest, why not fill us in on your report Qrow?"

Ironwood met Glynda's challenging gaze evenly. Qrow, true to form, clearly couldn't care less either way. The General backed down and the Spy slipped his flask into his pocket.

"Fine then. Go on." Ironwood prompted through gritted teeth.

"Your little infiltrator? They're not just some pawn. They're the one who stole Autumn." Qrow explained, brow furrowing. "So, yes. I've been offline. Because I've been trying to track down and end the bitch, before she traipses her way into our little treasure trove."

"What?" Glynda balked, "You're certain?"

"Wouldn't have said so if I wasn't."

Ironwood tapped a finger against his arm. "When you failed to check in, we found Amber's body and signs of a struggle. But you vanished. Care to explain your version of events?"

"Didn't you just hear a word I said?" Qrow snapped, "I wish I could've given her a proper burial, but I'm sorry to say funeral rites are a little low on the priorities list when someone's pissed off with a key to one of the cosmic reset buttons. Sorry for being more concerned with keeping us all alive."

"And not because you wanted revenge for your charge, I assume?" Glynda muttered under her breath.

Qrow made a grunting sound, but all three noted he didn’t deny the suggestion.

"Maybe you can answer me something James. Tell me, do I have to explain to you what the definition of 'subtlety' is? Or secrecy? I promise I'll use small words just for you." Qrow glared at the man.

"I'm sure you'll reach your point eventually, so why don't we skip the usual repartee?" Ironwood cut in.

"We're the ones who protect the world from the unknown, the shadows that combat the evils that go bump in the night, and its why we meet behind closed doors. So you tell me, James. When you brought your army to Vale, did you think you were being discreet or did you just not give a damn?"

"Discreet wasn't working." Ironwood dismissed, placing his scroll on the table. The holographic projector showed a map of the City of Vale, the Amity Arena and the air fleet in a protective formation. "I'm here because this is what was necessary."

"You claim that, but 'discreet' doesn't work because you don't have the patience to wait for it to work, James." Glynda interjected, arms crossed over her chest.

“We needed to take action—”

“We were taking action, James. We don’t stumble blindly into a combat situation; we assess and survey then implement preventive measures.”

“And here I thought that was common sense.” Qrow grunted, throwing his arm towards the window where a ship in the General’s fleet hung in the air. “Get off your high horse James. Oz made you a part of this battle—”

“And I am grateful.”

“Some gratitude you have. Cutting his legs out from under him. Pro tip: In bird culture, that’s considered a dick move.” Qrow quipped.

“Your levity isn’t appreciated.” Ironwood growled.

“Neither is this horseshit. Open your eyes and really look at how this idiocy looks. Talk to the damn people you’re supposedly protecting - they pissed!”

“The people of Vale needed someone to act on their behalf. In their defence. And our enemies will feel our strength with this show of force.” The General stated with conviction.

“No, they don’t.” Glynda shook her head, her tone grave. “As much as I loathe to admit it, Qrow is correct. The Valen people don’t feel safe by this display. They’re wondering why a foreign leader has parked his army right on top of the kingdom. They’re not looking at you as an aegis, they’re wondering when the first strike of a new war is coming.”

Ironwood looked at her, reeling back as if struck by a physical blow.

“If Salem or her cronies are scared of your little flying tin canes, then I’m the brothers-damned Empress of Mistral.” Qrow drawled sarcastically, then, despite his attempts to maintain his typical irascible tone, everyone presence could detect the undertone of terror in his voice. “I’ve been out there. I’ve seen the things she’s made – the things she’s done. She is fear incarnate.”

"And that fear will inevitably bring the Grimm to our gates." Ozpin rose to his feet, snatching the attention of all three of his subordinates. "We need to rally our people behind a symbol of comfort. A Guardian. But this army, this symbol of conflict, has only sparked an energy in the air. A question that hangs over everyone now: If these are our defenses, what are we going to fight?"

* * *

Mercury’s account was… disturbing to say the least.

Cinder Fall paced back and forth with a deep frown etched on her face. The implications of this were far reaching beyond just their current mission.

When they had successfully murdered the Fall Maiden and secured her power, they’d captured Qrow Branwen in the process. The foolish Huntsmen had failed to save his charge, and the demoralizing affect that had played to Cinder’s advantage in the fight. In addition to Emerald’s semblance stacking the field in their favour.

Before obtaining the Fall powers, Cinder wouldn’t have conceived of facing the man in one-on-one combat, but with the power of the Maiden at her beck and call, he went down shockingly easy.

Salem was especially interested in his capture and intrigued to hear what songs the little birdy had to sing.

Qrow was one of Ozpin’s most trusted. His right hand and one of his spy masters – now only spymaster since Raven Branwen left the fold. He would be privy to secrets that even Leonardo Lionheart wouldn’t possess, and that made him a very, very tempting target for interrogation.

When Cinder had last seen the man, he was a pathetic shell of his former self, chained to a wall in the Evernight Citadel Salem called her home. The Grimm Queen had taken personal charge of the interrogation and Cinder witnessed her employ strange, alien techniques. One in particular that had mimicked the gauntlet Cinder used to acquire the maiden powers. But unlike Cinder, Salem required no Grimm proxy to perform her techniques.

Over the course of those sessions, Cinder realized that Salem’s intention wasn’t to kill the man, but remake him. To tear him down to quite literally basic parts and reforge him into a spy for her.

Cinder watched as Salem cast her spells, each time ripping a fresh scream of agony from the Huntsman and one more slither of his soul was torn away. An ephemeral thing, like a dark red fabric scrap, that Salem would hold in her hand then feed it to the Beowulf that accompanied her during their sessions together.

Despite the agony – the unimaginable torment – he didn’t break. At least, he hadn’t while Cinder was still present.

Oh, how she wished she could listen to him scream over and over again. Compensation for all the mischief he caused. But she had a task to complete. Satisfying personal vendettas had to wait until it was done.

“You’re sure?” Cinder prompted.

Mercury nodded and fished out his scroll, “Yeah, it was him. Bad hair, broad sword. And smelt piss drunk. I’ve got a picture right here for you.”

The image was indeed of Qrow Branwen locking blades with the Atlas Specialist Winter Schnee. In the background was the significant damage caused to the courtyard and the face of concerned civilians. Cinder smirked, she could likely use the image in a tabloid – add some more fuel to the fire of discontent hanging in the air.

Still, she couldn’t discount that his appearance at Beacon implied two possibilities: The first being Salem had succeeded in her task. She had successfully torn the soul away and reforged Qrow Branwen into an obedient servant of her whims. In which case, Cinder now had a new and valuable ally here in Vale. One that could make getting close to and assassinating Ozpin that much easier.

The second, and far less likely option, was that he’d somehow escaped from Salem’s clutches.

Cinder doubted that. The last time, she’d seen the man, he’d been reduced to a pathetic weeping husk who couldn’t even remember his own name. His very identity scoured from existence.

“What do we do?” Emerald’s prompting tore Cinder from her musing and she pondered the question.

"Nothing for the time being. We stay the course for now, and observe the situation. It's quite possible we have nothing to worry about. But remember your escape plans. If our... _potential_ friend is with us or against us, we will find out in time." Cinder instructed them as she crossed the room to where her scroll sat on the table. "Besides, we've managed to amend the plan after the Grimm invasion."

"And I wonder who fucked that one up?" Qrow Branwen said, leaning on the window sill. 

Emerald and Mercury jumped to their feet, ready for a fight. 

"Oh sit the fuck down, you brats. Do you really think I'd announce myself so openly if I wasn't on your side?" The Huntsman crossed his arms and leaned against the window. "Also, word to the wise? Maybe check the window lock next time, you amateurs."

"But--" Emerald shot a disbelieving look to the window, the lock and then to Cinder and Mercury. "But I locked it. I made sure of that."

"Bad luck, huh? Well, then, sucks to be you." Qrow mused out loud.

"Ah, I see you've finally come around to our way of thinking, have you?" Cinder mused, taking him in with a certain level of perverse pride. A shrug was her reply.

Qrow was different. His _eyes_ were different. The same core of defiant bright red, but highlights of a rich purple.

Cinder felt her lip curl into a slight smile. It appears that whatever corruption Salem had planted in the errant huntsman's being, it had swayed his loyalties completely to the Grimm Queen. The old expression was 'eyes were the window into the soul', and that corrupted soul was showing through nicely.

"The invasion wasn't supposed to happen until your big finale, right? So, who dropped the ball there?" Qrow questioned again.

"Those stupid kids on Team RWBY." Emerald answered, following Cinder's lead.

Qrow nodded slowly. "Yeah, they tend to do that."


	2. Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past is painful, and Cinder makes some revisions to her plan in light of new information.
> 
> Triggers: Body horror, amputation.

_Qrow tried to tear his mind away from his current predicament. Unfortunately, the oppressive darkness yielded no distractions from this hopeless plight._

_The bastards who captured him stripped him of his jacket and cast it aside in a crumbled mess, along side it was what remained of his loyal Harbinger. Its broken state acting as a dark parallel to its master._

_Qrow's head was pounding from a mix of withdrawal and, if the nausea he felt was an indication, what was most likely a concussion. His face was pressed against the cold and unyielding stone floor. The sick scent of stale sweat and old, dried blood filled his nostrils. Its lingering presence left a coppery taste in his mouth._

_Even deprived of light, his mental assessment was that his wounds were significant. His pale flesh was littered with brilliant purple bruises, livid weeping cuts that only received the bare minimum of treatment. Doubtlessly, they would become infected before long. And those were only the surface injuries._

_The sharp winces from his right side in particular told him his ribs were badly damaged. Experience and the way his breathing hitched and caught confirmed in his mind that those were in fact, breaks. It was sheer luck, or sheer bad luck, that his lung hadn't been punctured... yet._

_It took every ounce of his meagre aura supply just to keep himself functional, and those levels wouldn't recover any time soon until his physical injuries were healed. The chances of that happening however? Well, what was the old saying? Spit in one hand, wish in the other._

_Thick iron manacles pinned his arms behind his back, which certainly didn't help matters. Their weight were as much a confine to him as the chains that pinned him in place. Numerous times since regaining consciousness, Qrow tried to level himself off the cold ground with his legs as counterweights._

_But he couldn't do it._

_Distressingly, he realised he couldn't even feel his legs. That sent a spike of panic through him but he willed himself to calm down. His captors likely anticipated any escape attempts and used some form of paralytic agent to keep him immobile._

_The situation was far from comfortable and less than ideal. But this current reality paled in comparison to the catastrophic failure that brought Qrow to this dire scenario._

_He had failed. Singularly and utterly failed. And that reality caused twin feelings to burn through his guts as surely as an infection; Unyielding rage and inescapable self-loathing._

_The unyielding rage gave birth to a desire for vengeance against the duplicitous trio who managed to slay poor young Amber. And in truth, part of that rage was aimed at himself as well._

_Qrow was supposed to protect his charge, but he didn't. He should've been faster. But he wasn't. And now? Now another young life was added to those already weighing down his overburdened conscience._

_As his mind ran through dozens of scenarios and what-if's it inevitably turned its focus back to its favourite hobby: tormenting him._

_"It was your semblance, you idiot. It's always been your semblance." The churlish voice in his head chastised with grim resignation, the same one that drove him to find hollow comfort in drink and cheap companionship. "The old man should've known better, should've known not to let a walking bad luck charm protect one of his super secret magical girls."_

_Before the voice could send Qrow further down the path of self-flagellation, and lamenting the fact he couldn't knock back his flask to silence it, a heavy stone rumble echoed through the dark chamber. The door opened slowly, menacingly, casting a penetrating beam of purple-ish light through the chamber._

_"As I live and breath! Qrow Branwen, a true Huntsmen. Such an honour to meet you." A theatrical tone announced._

_Qrow couldn't move his head at an angle to see the person addressing him, but he could hear the food steps draw closer and feel their vibration through the ground._

_The figure circled around until he entered Qrow's vision. A man, garbed in a white jumpsuit with brown boots and gauntlets. Even without looking at the guy's face, Qrow could already tell just from the body language that this guy was a grade-A maniac._

_"You know, for such a little bird, I had always longed to see you face to face on the battlefield. But alas, that twas not meant to be. Such a tragedy."_

_Qrow scoffed, but it came out as more of a hacking cough. "Why don't you take these chains off then, pal? We can have a friendly spar and see who the better fighter is."_

_The man laughed hysterically before affecting a mocking tone that Qrow supposed was some form of feigned sympathy. "While I would dearly love to acquiesce your request, for it is such a tempting offer, I'm afraid that it will be quite impossible for you. Especially after Her Grace is... finished with her interrogation."_

_Qrow growled in frustration, "I wouldn't be so sure, pal. Why don't you try it out? I might be more a challenge than you think."_

_"Once perhaps," The maniac agreed with a solemn nod, but it wasn't long before a truly psychotic grin spread across his face. "But I fear you may find it difficult to fight when you have no legs."_

_Qrow's eyes widened at the words before the man's brown boot kicked him onto his side. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his body that rendered his vision blurry for a few moments, but from this new angle, he saw--_

_His legs - what was_ left _of them - ended as a pair of blood-soaked ragged stumps. Dark red embers of his aura leaked from the poorly bound limbs._

_The horrified screams were echoed then drowned by manic laughter._

* * *

Cinder was positively delighted by this turn of events. 

Their new friend was giving them everything they wanted and more. And what's more, he was doing it of his own free will. The newly minted Fall Maiden liked to believe that perhaps there was some aspect of his old self locked in the back of his mind, trapped by Salem's machinations while his body was working to destroy the Kingdom he worked so fruitlessly to protect.

"A Sovereign Host, you say?" Cinder echoed, intrigued.

"A Sovereign? I don't get it, what's that mean?" Emerald tried to chime in but he wasn't even spared a glance.

"Hush, adults are talking." Qrow dismissed him quickly and continued on with his explanation. "The Nikos kid was at the epicentre of a huge Grimm outbreak about six years ago. Old man Oz was the one who lead the task force that neutralised her. After that, he made arrangements for her to be trained so that he could one day wield her Sovereign side as a weapon against Salem."

"And she still possesses a core?" Cinder inquired.

"Yeah. It can be reawakened given the right external circumstances. A huge part of her training was mental focus and conditioning. Jury's out on how well that's stuck." The corrupt Huntsman explained.

"Well then, that makes our plans much more interesting. With sufficient stress, we can destabilise her control, let her run rampant." Cinder mused out loud, moving to her scroll on the desk. 

"I still don't buy it," Mercury crossed his arms, glaring at the Huntsman. "Why should we even trust you? Last time I checked, you were trying to kill us just as much as we were tryin' to kill you. And suddenly, you're all pally with us? Get real."

The Huntsmen's red-and-purple eyes levelled at him blankly. "I can happily change that state of affairs if you'd like? If I wanted to, nothing would stop me from gutting you with an honest to gods smile on my face."

Mercury shot to his feet, "Oh yeah?! Br-"

" _Quiet_." Cinder ordered sternly. Mercury gave her a look, nodded once and resumed his seat. "You do raise an interesting suggestion. But how can we be sure you're not deceiving us?"

"Its like you said, I've... had a _change_ in perspective." Qrow dismissed with a shrug, "And if you choose to reawakened the 9th Sovereign in Pyrrha Nikos, then doesn't that just add more ammo to play with in this little game of yours?"

He pushed himself off the window sill and made his way to the room door. "And when all's said and done, I'll lead you to the Beacon vault myself. Sound good? Good."

Qrow Branwen didn't wait for an answer when he opened and closed the door behind him. Emerald and Mercury exchanged looks with one another, and Cinder? Well, she had one more thing she wanted. It was something petty. An outside observer would call it base and immature, but for Cinder, it was a need to assert control.

Cinder spotted Qrow Branwen not even five metres down the hallway. A smirk playing on her lips. 

"Qrow..."

He turned to look at her. His eyes had already returned to their base faded red colour.

"Why don't you join me later?" It was a statement more than a request. "We can... _celebrate_ your grand epiphany in a much more intimate way."

Celebration was the last thing on her mind. She wanted to dominate this man, this obstacle that dared stand in the way of her destiny. 

Cinder's hand stroked his stubble-coated chin. Applying a touch of the maiden's fiery magics to her fingers. A light sizzling emitted from the contact and smelt of burning flesh, mute warning that she was not to be denied.

"Cinder. Your offer is a tempting one. And believe you me, I truly understand what you're trying to do. But I want you to listen to me _very_ carefully." He pulled her hands gently from him and held them between them, apparently ignorant of the fire magic burning his palms. "If I wanted a greedy little whore, I'd _pay_ for one."

With that, he shoved Cinder aside hard like she was little more than a rag-doll as he rounded the corner. A categorical rejection. Anger surged through Cinder and she gathered fiery magic in her hand, ready to aim at his back until --

"Uncle Qrow!"

Damn her. Damn that Rose girl! Cinder extinguished the flame just in time and pressed her back against the hallway wall and out of sight. A second voice, that blond bitch of her sister, joined the first.

"Hey Uncle Qrow. Rubes and I were gonna head off for some lunch. Feel like grabbing a bite to eat?"

"Sure. Got any good food kiosks in the fairgrounds this year?"

Their chatter faded and Cinder felt her rage reach boil, stewing in the insult to her pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now. I'm evil. That's all I'll say. So the questions are as follows: How did Qrow get his legs back? And what will Cinder do in revenge for Qrow literally brushing her off like a gnat?
> 
> ... NGL. I love this plot bunny. If I were to give you a hint as to precisely _what_ is going on with Qrow... lets just say I'm a big fan of Apotheosis as a theme. Make of that what you will. :)


	3. Illusive Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Ironwood's Orders, Winter postpones her trip back to Atlas to investigate Qrow Branwen for any signs of suspicious activity.

For a supposed master spy, Qrow Branwen was shockingly easy to trail.

Winter's return to her Atlas posting was postponed by a last-minute assignment. Such was the way of things in her chosen career path, but what was strange about this particular case was General Ironwood giving her the option to say no. He had laid out the task before her, and told her in no uncertain terms she was allowed to reject the assignment.

The choice was unnecessary. Winter would perform the task she had been given, and she would perform it scrupulously. 

Weiss was particularly pleased to be seeing more of her, and Winter's feelings on that matter were mutual. However, Winter also lacked sufficient downtime to spend with Weiss. At best, they could manage fleeting conversations that lasted perhaps ten minutes at the most. The Specialist couldn't allow much more leeway than that.

For the next four days, the first round of the Vytal festival continued. Four student matches were held in the morning, each given a thirty minute time limit with a fifteen minute intermission between matches to clear out and restore the arena. In the evening, professional Huntsmen would engage in one-on-one or two-or-two rounds as entertainment. 

Qrow spent the beginning of the day milling about the fairgrounds, interacting with students and admirers alike - Team STRQ were famous in their time, and even for some time after. His reputation often preceded him. Although Winter wondered how many of those admirers were born from witnessing his spat with her. 

In the evening whenever he wasn't accompanied by his nieces, he would predictably bar hop. Meeting up with fellow Huntsmen and Huntresses, swapping stories and tips in exchange for drinks, lien or favours. Most of the time when he wasn't attending to meetings with Professors Ozpin and Goodwitch, he would accompany his nieces whenever they weren't in the spectator stands: Yang and Ruby, her sister's teammates. 

Privately, Winter was astonished to witness his capacity to act like a mature and responsible adult while spending time with them. At least, on the surface. Maybe there was more to this drunken lunatic than she was willing to admit. 

It wasn't until the fifth night that there was a change in the observed routine. Qrow made his way to a garage in south Vale's Capital in the slums. And apparently, he'd used one of those favours accrued from a previous night's worth bar-hopping to hitch a ride with a Huntress.

The Huntress in question was Ana Splav, she was known in the Vale circle as being an engineering genius who directed autonomous drones to fight Grimm in her stead and something of a biking enthusiast. According to the mission board records, she had been attending to a long-term extermination mission in Mountain Glenn, and from what Winter observed, she was very dismissive of Qrow Branwen's request while she prepped for her departure. Her evidently signature bike's engine roaring and humming.

At least initially. 

Then she saw a glimmer of silver, a coin or something similarly small pass between them, and Anna's disposition completely changed. She allowed Qrow to mount her motor cycle after her and they had both sped off at illegal speeds.

Winter chose a more practical form of transport to make her way to the abandoned region. Military aircraft made regular patrols in that area and she used her authority to requisition use of one for her mission. she had read the after-action reports provided by the military, as well as the accounts of her sister and Team RWBY.

The recent Grimm invasion was confirmed to have come from the old train lines that connected the two cities. Though the Specialist was puzzled, she couldn't fathom what his reasons must be. Was his intention to investigate the area for security reasons? Or trying to gain an 'on-the-ground' perspective for where the Grimm invasion occurred? Or was there another assignment he was on unrelated to those presented on the bounty boards. Or did it that one of those favours involved trading mission assignments? Such a thing was... evidently common outside of Atlas. Huntsmen trading missions and assignments like they were collectors items.

When Winter arrived an hour later, she peered down at the ruins below with a grim expression.

Mountain Glenn was a desolate corpse of a place. Fitting for a region historians largely referred to as ‘The world’s largest’ tomb. And the light of the shattered moon only added to the dark dreary atmosphere. 

This place was once a bustling hub of commerce, expansion and symbolised hope. And now it was all skeletons of rusted iron and chipped concrete, interspersed by green and brown plant life that curled around the structures like gnarled fingers. As if Remnant’s greedy claws were determined to claim the abandoned structures as its own.

Winter had to be especially careful now. It was impossible to tell where Qrow Branwen would be. And while there were precious few signs of life outside the occasional Grimm, that meant there was just as much a chance that he would find her first. And that would lead to some very awkward explaining. She barely got two steps around the corner of this particular drag of main street before --

"So what did I do to earn the pleasure of your company, Specialist Schnee?" Qrow Branwen drawled behind her, Winter spun on her heel and glared at him. It was all she could do to cover the fact that he'd jumped her so completely.

Her hand went to her rapier's hilt in alarm, but it was clear the Huntsman had no interest in a fight for now. His arms were crossed over his torso and he leaned languidly against a concrete shopfront. Recovering quickly, Winter stood up straight. 

"That's classified." She declared in a firm tone and Qrow rolled his eyes.

"James' orders then. Eh, figures." He sighed, sounding more disappointed than alarmed, "Yeah, should've known. That bastard --"

" _General_."

"--doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me right now, does he?" Qrow paused then frowned. "Let me guess, he got piss-y when I lipped off at him and he sent you alone to spy on me. I have to say, Schnee. For a 'specialist', you make a shitty spy. Even without the uniform, you'd stick out like a sore thumb from a mile away."

Winter grit her teeth and stood a little straighter, her hands clasped behind her back to affect her typical manner of professionalism. Even if she couldn't keep the irritation out of her tone. "In case you haven't been informed of recent events, this region was the inception site of the recent Grimm invasion that assaulted South Vale. I've been instructed to make an assessment of the area to ensure security of the Kingdom's borders."

The excuse was an easy one to rattle off, and sounded realistic enough. But it was clear her Huntsman counterpart didn't believe a word of it.

"Of course. Atlas wants to 'protect all of us' huh?" He pushed himself off the concrete and faced her directly. "Always butting in where you don't belong."

"I could say the same for you right now." Winter shot back haughtily, "This area is sealed off to unauthorised personnel."

"Yeah, you're outside your oh-so-precious jurisdiction, Icequeen. Try another line on me." He sauntered towards her, past her with his eyes set on the huge mountain that the city was named for, and the mountain top that marked the abandoned dust mine within.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me what passed between you and the Huntress, Anna Splav?" Winter inquired firmly, figuring another line of questioning might work better.

"I don't really think you're in any position to be asking me questions, Ms Stalker." Qrow shot back, clearly only emphasising the last part to get a rise out of Winter. Her response was to grit her teeth.

He closed his eyes and shrugged with a slight smile curling his lips. "But, if you insist on knowing, I'm going to awaken the Wyvern in that cliff and tame it. Hopefully, these long eons slumbering haven't driven it too far over the edge."

The frank confession took Winter off guard, and for a moment she thought he truly had gone mad. Or that she'd been struck by temporary insanity and misheard him. " _What_?"

"Would you like to know something?" Qrow offered with an oddly tranquil tone as he looked up at the heavens, his focus on the shattered moon.

The celestial sphere was at its fullest, appeared to be whole at this angle, and the shattered remnants being nothing more than interesting geological blemishes on its surface.

"James was right."

Winter blinked, then her eyes widened when Qrow looked over his shoulder at her. Haloed by the moon, his visage was all the more terrifying. His irises were no longer that shifting red, but a dark violet.

"When Amber was killed, I _was_ captured by Salem. She cut off my legs to make sure I wouldn't escape, then she took her time with me. Using her twisted magics to peel away layer after layer of my soul. My mind along with it." He turned and walked towards her, Winter took an involuntary step back and her hand went to her rapier once more. "Can you imagine it? Losing yourself piece by piece? Memories of your cherished loved ones vanishing on the whims of a demon witch?"

With a flash, the rapier was out and had struck down hard. Just as quickly the blow was parried and deflected by the broadsword at Qrow's back. "You've gone insane. The General was right, you _are_ compromised.I cannot allow you to continue any further. By order of the Atlas Military, you're hereby under arrest."

Hundreds of questions were racing through Winter's mind: Who was Amber? Who was Salem? Just what else was she capable of? Especially if she had turned a man like Qrow Branwen, a man that for all his faults was reported to be nothing but loyal to Ozpin, could be turned so completely against them. And what was this about cutting off his legs?! He was standing quite clearly and Winter had been around enough soldiers to tell when someone's limbs are prosthetic or not. 

With a sharp breath, Winter focused herself on the task at hand.

She would not get out of this battle unscathed, and she had no doubt her foe would simply allow her to leave after that frank confession.

"You think you can handle that? Schnee, you couldn't handle me when I was piss drunk. What makes you think you can handle me when I'm stone cold sober?" Qrow asked blankly, a thin black eye brow raised. 

"Do not underestimate me, nor the power of the Atlas military." Winter declared fiercely. 

"I don't see the military, I just see a woman whose in way over her head." Qrow declared, he closed his eyes and sheathed his sword. The gesture almost perfectly mirroring the one from their battle earlier in the week. "Lucky for you, I have no intention of hurting you. One; that'd waste my time with pointless and avoidable questions. Two; to obtain my objective, I need some semblance of autonomy."

"You talk as though you could take me down so easily, but I will not be defeated by the likes of you." Winter scoffed, "And precisely what _is_ your objective?" 

"That's not relevant, really." Qrow shrugged dismissively, "For now, my little confession is done. And you? Well... Sorry to say, I have to do some editing. And, regrettably, its not going to be pleasant." 

Winter lunged at him with a roar, but he made no motion to move. His lips simply creased into a smile and he snapped his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qrow... what did you do?


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another glimpse of Qrow's time as Salem's prisoner, and the factions react to the aftermath of the escapade into Mountain Glenn

_His name..._

_He tried to think, trying to remember what it was. But no matter how hard he tried, it was a static void in his memory. Like so many other things._

_He couldn't remember what he couldn't remember, but the sorrow and grief from the lack of recollection brought tears to his eyes. Thin tracks that ran down his cheeks._

_The white-faced woman would come, she would carve another piece of him. He would scream in agony while she would interrogate him and he would deny her again and again. The agony would tear through him on a fundamental level, but peeling another face from his mind._

_All the same, he was asked questions and he would choke out bitter defiance through a hoarse throat. It ended with him in the hell of the woman's displeasure._

_This was a rare lull in activity. His body was left to hand on the wall by a set of manacles embedded into the wall. The prisoners who likely graced these walls had legs to stand on. The man who'd forgotten his name had no such luck. His legs were missing, cut off by his captors, and leaving the thick roughly forged iron to bare the entirety of his weight. The metal cut into his skin,_

_"You've met with a terrible fate."_

_The prisoner gasped, eyes darting frantically around the room to locate the source of the voice._

_It belonged to another. A prisoner like him. This one was different. One of those creatures - a faunas! Yes, that was the term. The nameless man was elated he remembered that tiny detail._

_He couldn't make out the fellow prisoner's face or features, only their silhouette. They were male, lean in build with a pair of curved horns sprouting from their forehead. One horn was broken to the root, the other was chipped and hollowed like a tooth infested with cavities._

_"w-Who are you?!" The action of speaking hurt the nameless man's ribs, he was breathless and his muscles screamed._

_"I am a prisoner of this place, much like you."_

_"I-I don't believe you!" He sputtered weakly, sounding more a child hurling words at the dark than the veteran Huntsman he once was as a whole being._

_"Believe isn't required in this situation. Know that perhaps, you and I will find some company in each other's suffering." The figure said, defeated._

_"C-can you get me out of this?"_

_"I fear that... I lack the power to do even that." The other prisoner replied._

_The nameless man's breathing hitched when he saw the figure hoist himself to his feet and stagger ever so slowly to him. "We are both trapped here for a time. But for now, allow me to offer you some measure of peace."_

_"N-no, please--" The faunas prisoner placed his hand on the man's bare chest, a faint tendril of purple energy flowed from the faunas, and the amnesiac prisoner felt - for the first time since this nightmare began - a measure of blissful calm._

_Fatigue overcame him and his eyes slide closed for a deep dreamless slumber._

* * *

Professor Ozpin was more than a little surprised when he received his report at the ungodly hour of three in the morning. 

Apparently, his errant spymaster had taken it upon himself to investigate the recent Grimm invasion in Vale's southern district and its connection to Mountain Glenn. There, Qrow pulled on a stray thread that unraveled quite the tapestry of intrigue and, in the process, answered some very old questions surrounding the proto-city's collapse.

Doctor Joseph Merlot was still alive and well. And thanks to the combined efforts of Qrow Branwen and the Specialist Winter Schnee, he was detained in a cell awaiting a trial for crimes against the Kingdom and humanity itself.

At some point during their cooperative investigation, they had found the lingering remnants of the White Fang's operation. A Grimm pack attacked the duo, and a stray claw managed to set off some agitated dust crystals. The whole peak of Mountain Glenn collapsed in on itself. Doubtlessly, it would become a front-page news item come the morning. Already, the twenty-four hour services were broadcasting the breaking news and offering speculations from left over Grimm in the mind to geological instability in the area.

Ozpin was glad the mad man was locked away. His ludicrous _obsession_ with the Grimm bordered on madness, and Ozpin was intimately familiar with the consequences of that kind of obsession.

He would've been far _more_ pleased at the news had James not had sent one of his officers to spy on Qrow. Wasn't it bad enough that Ozpin had to worry about spies from Salem's camp? Now he has to quell a rising discord between his own subordinates?

James had been doing a lot of that sort of thing lately. The man's heart was in the right place, but these attempts at assist were… _misguided_. They stemmed from the General's need for control and they were rapidly becoming a hindrance.

Ozpin knew the pitfalls of that mindset all too well. 

The elevator door chimed and swished open, footfalls echoed through his office and he knew who it was even before the low gravelly voice addressed him.

"You called Oz?"

"I see you've kept yourself busy since you've been back in Vale. Would you care to explain to me precisely what happened?" Ozpin asked evenly.

The Headmaster wasn't angry. In the end, no lives were lost, but it concerned him that the massive Wyvern that had lived in that mountain since ancient times had quite suddenly disappeared. He thought that perhaps it was destroyed by the explosion, but the sheer lack of explosive particles during the summit's collapse disproved that. Had the Wyvern disappeared, Vale would have been blanketed by black mist for at least a week. It troubled him greatly.

Qrow simply shrugged and Ozpin turned to face him. Injured by the affair, he neglected his typical jacket and favoured a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and top two buttons undone. Underneath, Ozpin could see the bandages that kept his wound closed.

"I smelled a rat, I chased it and... well, you know how that story goes." 

Ozpin watched with critical eyes as Qrow explained his version of events, finishing off the report with a nip from his flask.

The headmaster had known this man for over half the latter's life, he knew that this was more than just an idle suspicion. He drew in a breath.

"You didn't fail, Qrow." Ozpin said he could feel Qrow's gaze turn on him and imagine the faint traces of confusion playing on it.

"What are you talking about?"

Ozpin closed eyes regarding his one-time student. "I know you well enough to know what you're doing."

Qrow frowned. 

"You think you failed to protect Amber. And you place the blame squarely on yourself. So to make up for it, you are running yourself ragged to quell other threats in the kingdom."

Qrow took a long drag from his flask, but the faint crease of his brow told Ozpin he hit the nail on the head. "Amber's _dead_. Our enemy has the Fall Maiden powers and is rearing to make a move on Vale. How do you define that as anything _but_ a categorical failure?"

"Always the pessimist." Ozpin mused, "This is not the first time that a Maiden's power has fallen into the hands of someone less than sympathetic to our cause. We will hand the matter as we always do, by locating them and... pacifying the situation."

"Fancy way of saying we'll kill the bitch and let random chance decide who dares wins." Qrow said cynically.

Ozpin leaned back in his chair, lips pressed in a thin line. While he'd grown significantly since those days as an almost feral teen, there were times where glimpses of the old Qrow - the one loyal to the pillaging and reaving bandit tribe - would show through. Those times, Ozpin always found it wise to use compassion to remind him those days of his life were over.

"I want you to keep something in the back of your mind Qrow. I do not blame you for what happened. Sometimes bad things happen. And it was simply a matter of preparedness. The enemy we battle is a cunning one that wears many faces. While Amber's passing is a tragedy, I don't fault you for it."

"I blame myself, Oz." Qrow confessed, "You trusted me with a job. She trusted me to protect her and I failed."

Ozpin considered him for a long moment, watching him take yet another drag from the silver and leather flask. "Then I suggestion you find a way to make it up to the rest of us. And more importantly, to yourself."

"I'll drink to that, old man."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?" Cinder barked, her eyes glowing with inner fire. She'd found Qrow Branwen that morning, drinking coffee alone in a secluded sector of the academy grounds, browsing his scroll without a care in the world.

When Cinder woke this morning and saw the reports regarding the Vale and Atlas Joint effort to bring in a notorious criminal, with Qrow's face seen in the background, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. What in hell was this moron doing!? "Are you trying to jeopardise the plan?"

Qrow seemed supremely unconcerned by her anger. As far as Cinder could tell, he actually enjoyed it. "I'm not your pet, and I'm not someone you can bully or boss around, so calm down already. Or this time - I _will_ put you through a wall."

"We are trying to topple a nation, acting in their best interests is counter productive to our goals." Cinder rebuked him.

"You do understand the part where I am a Huntsman right? I still have a job to do. And I still like getting paid. So why don't you leave me to my plans, and I'll leave you to yours, hmm?" Qrow dismissed her with a wave of the hand, returning to his coffee and scroll.

Cinder grit her teeth. "And exactly what are those plans? If you keep behaving like this, I'll start to believe we haven't truly turned you after all. And if I'm wrong? Well, you'll end up like your friend Amber."

"Didn't I just tell you those sorts of threats don't work on me?" Qrow rolled his eyes, irritated to be distracted from his reading. He glared up at Cinder. "Let me tell you something, Little Miss Cindy - your little lackey isn't here to help you out, and the Old man specifically trained me to hunt down and _kill_ problem maidens. So, show some respect or I might just follow that directive."

Cinder's fingers curled into tight fists. How she would just love to kill him right here, but a corpse would draw unnecessary attention, and they already had enough of a diversion thanks to the Mountain Glenn collapse. "May I ask specifically what your plan is?"

"If you must know, I've been reaching out to an underground cult. A sort of dark shadow to Ozpin's own little group. They want to guide this world their own way, and I think they might be sympathetic to the situation. And the aims of the task at hand."

Cinder sucked in a breath through tightly gritted teeth, then somehow managed to speak in a semblance of a calm voice. "I'll be there for that meeting."

"I'm sure you'd like to be. But I don't take orders from you." Qrow dismissed her entirely. "Besides, the Gray Veil only allow their members to attend their gatherings. You either have to be a member, or be escorted by one. And I've gotta say I'm not particularly inclined to let you walk in with me."

"You--" Her anger surged, and it was all she could do not to summon fire to her hands.

"Oh _spare_ me the playground bully act, girl. You're not intimidating, you're a child trying to play at the adult's table."

"You damn elites, always thinking you're above everyone else."

Qrow rose to his full height, quite literally looking down at the woman who was a foot and a half shorter. "I was born a bandit, you stupid cow. I rose up through blood, sweat and tears. You're just looking for every shortcut you can find so you can put in as little effort as possible. Lazy ass people like you are the kind I hate the most."

Qrow looked at her, giving her an exaggerated once-over. "But…. I suppose I could stomach having you alone. Cheaper than dishing out lien for a lady escort for the evening. Just do me a favour and actually cover up."

With that he left before Cinder could bark a word of protest. Once this mission was over and Vale was ash, she would kill him. She would kill him with an honest to gods smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who was helping Qrow in the past I wonder. Were they helping him? Or another trick of Salem? And what's this 'Grey Veil' business? :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Qrow is suffering, Yang and Ruby have a good tease at his expense, and Cinder gets mocked.

_Fading._

_Everything was fading._

_His memories. His questions. Even a sense of self. These things were such distant and nebulous concepts that the nameless man couldn't understand what propelled him to cling so desperately to them in the first place. Why did he need them? Why did he even have them in the first place?_

_The hostility, the anger, the hatred and pain. All of it was simply... gone. As if a fire had burnt out in that cold dark pit._

_Time itself had no meaning. Not that there was anything to mark it anyway. There were only three constants in his existence in the seemingly endless dark - an existence that any sane person would hardly call 'life' anymore._

_The first was the steady withering of his body, leaving little more than skin and bone. The roughly hewn metal cuffs that kept him in place against the wall were loosening by the day thanks to his atrophying limbs. Though he faintly recognised the gnarl of hunger in the beginning - that much he knew - it had long since vanished as a priority. Perhaps he'd simply grown so used to the sensation that he ceased registering it at all._

_The second constant in his isolated experience were the visits from the White Woman. If there was rhyme, reason or even a method behind the timing of her visits, the nameless man couldn't even begin to tell. But the rumbling of that door opening and closing were his only external means of telling if time had passed._

_The White woman would come, offering safety and companionship. She was always gentle with him, tended to him as a mother would. But there was a voice, a distrustful hiss in the back of his mind, warning him against her. Telling him there was poison behind those honeyed lies. Seemingly without reason, or even truly understanding why, he would deny her. Part of him expected pain in retaliation, but she would simply coo tender motherly words and leave._

_That made him want to retch._

_When the White Woman was gone, and her echoing footsteps vanished, the third constant in this existence would return._

_The Faunas with the broken horns would return. The Nameless Man's only companion in this isolation. The only fixed point he COULD remember._

_"You always disappear. When she comes." The nameless man whispered._

_He had nothing to him but these exchanges. They remained steadfast and deeply rooted in his mind no matter how much else was peeled away._

_Was this a fragment of insanity? Was this Faunas the shredded remnants of a mind simply trying to keep him sane through this torment? Or an insipid presence planted by the White Woman's machinations to push him further into her design?_

_"I do. It does neither of us good if she discovers I am assisting you. Or that I've assisted others confined in this place. Doubtless she would turn her attentions to me instead, and then she would use means to sever what tenuous connections I have to this realm entirely." The Faunas Prisoner explained._

_As he did numerous times before, the Faunas would place his hand on the nameless man's chest and soothe the pain._

_The nameless man had long since appreciated these respites. They would speak. Of precisely what? That tended to vary. The Faunas prisoner had identified himself as Zagreus, and would remind his fellow captor that the White Woman's name was Salem. That was he was a prisoner and things to that effect. When the nameless man would ask for more, Zagreus would only provide a little._

_Whether it was because he was hiding something, or because Salem would somehow find a way to strip that from the Nameless man too was a question for another time._

_"You can… you can make the pain go away, and I can breathe easier… can you break me out of here?" The nameless man asked desperately._

_Zagreus sighed, his faded purple eyes half-hooded and exhausted. "There are many things I cannot do. Not for lack of will, I promise you that. All I can do is ease the suffering of those unfortunate enough to be trapped in that would-be usurper’s claws.”_

_"Usurper..." The Nameless man echoed, his voice a breathy whisper. "You... you called her that before, haven't you?"_

_"I have. I'm glad you remember, though I'm not surprised. Not even Salem will be able to take these little chats of ours away. Unlike her, my understanding of the human soul is more... holistic, shall we say? " Zagreus answered, he exhaled a quiet breath and met the Nameless man's gaze with a silent sorrowful apology._

_"I'm afraid you can't deal with much more than this. While I can take away the pain for a time, your body is dying. There isn't much else I can do to prevent that, not without alerting the Usurper to my actions."_

_The nameless man's chin fell to his chest, despair taking its roots in the very core of his broken being. "How do I know you're not just trying to manipulate and use me like she -- like that Salem woman is?"_

_Zagreus nodded slowly, an understanding look upon his face. His tone was soft, consoling. "I'd understand why you'd think that. In fact, it's just about the only conclusion you can draw from the situation. A tormentor trying to break your will and a liberator promising succor and salvation. If nothing else, it smacks of an overused cliche and a common interrogation tactic."_

_"... You're not denying it." The Nameless man accused hoarsely, mustering what little strength he had to glare defiantly._

_Zagreus simply hummed, brushing a spare hand over his broken horns. "I see no point in denial. 'Trust' is a limited commodity, and yours has been expended. Especially now of all times, where everything has been erased and you lack the ability to determine what can be trusted and cannot be trusted entirely."_

_"Use small words, I have a headache..." The nameless man groaned._

_"Suffice it to say that I have no love of Salem, as you don't. After all, she has usurped my place while I was bound under this... pathetic farce of a citadel." Zagreus glared down at his palm, as if it held all his frustrations. His fingers closed tightly into a fist which shook violently with rage._

_"Can you get me out of here?" The nameless man asked again._

_Where he would go and what he would do after were a complete mystery. No memories, no guidance, no legs. It hurt the lingering scraps of his pride to admit it, but Zagreus was right. He wouldn't make it far._

_"I could take your final breath." Zagreus offered, not unkindly._

_"Take --- you mean you're offering to kill me?" The Nameless man wasn't exactly opposed to the idea if it meant escaping this hell, but he wasn't about ready to leap to it either._

_"Yes." Zagreus agreed with a slow nod, "It will be painless. Peaceful, and I promise that you'll be allowed to rest. In a way, Death is a final freedom. From this life, from its pains and woes, and the final step to the great beyond where you can rest in peace."_

_"Sounds positively flowery..." Despite everything, it seemed the nameless man's sarcasm weathered his abuses._

_"I never said it was a perfect solution, but it is rapidly becoming a merciful one in this case." Zagreus declared, jutting his chin towards the Prisoner's wasting frame._

_"There… there are people I have to protect, aren't there?" The nameless man's chin fell to his chest, asking himself more than his companion. He drew a blank, but knew in what was left over of his mutilated soul that it was true. "I don't even remember who. I don't know their names. I don't know their faces. I don't even know where they are or what I'm supposed to do. But... I need to protect them.”_

_Zagerus glanced up at him, studying the nameless man carefully. His purple eyes narrowed. "What are you willing to give for that chance?"_

_The nameless man laughed, a weak raspy sound that sounded more like a dying hiss. "What... what have I got left to lose?"_

* * *

"Are you kidding me, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby complained, thrusting a finger towards the news broadcast. "First you warn us off trying to pull off any quote 'whacky heroic shenanigans' unquote - and then you one-up us by pulling in some kind of crazy mad scientist guy with Weiss' sister?" 

"Don't ya think it reeks a little of hypocrisy, old man?" Yang added her own teasing to the mix while Qrow was busy adjusting his shirt cuffs. For some reason, he was wearing a black silk shirt and dark grey vest with embroidery. 

"There's a difference, kiddos. Unlike you two, who are still wearing training wheels, I'm a professional Huntsman. And I've been around the block enough times to handle what some empty plastic scientist whack-job can throw at me." 

"And wrecked a mountain peak in the process?" Ruby pointed out,

"Really? _Really_?" Qrow raised an eyebrow at his younger niece, "You're going to blame me for freak geological accidents? Feeling the love here, pipsqueak." 

The sisters sniggered at his faux offended tone. "So, what's with the get up, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby inquired innocently.

Yang's face split into a wide grin, and she leaned in with a coy tone. "Oh that's right, I saw in the adult league that a certain Lavendel Rosenkreutz was competing. Looking to reignite an old flame there, Uncle Qrow?"

Ruby gasped with delight, stars in her eyes. "Oh my gosh, you have a date with Lavendel?! Is that why you're all dressed up?!" The younger sister dashed across the room, leaving a fluffy of rose petals behind her when she clung to his arm. "PLEASE! Please please please get me her autograph! She's the only one missing from my Team LAZR collection!" 

Qrow rolled his eyes, and Ruby swore to the high heavens she saw just the teeniest little blush colouring his cheeks. But, being him, he just brushed them both off and played it cool. 

"Ruby, Yang - I don't know what you two have going through your heads, but Del and I ended things _years_ ago. Its just a nice dinner between some old friends."

"Yeah, but I always got the impression you guys ended things of a super bad note. You were _pissed_." Yang reminded him, lips pulling in a thin line. "Didn't she shoot you?"

"That was a perfectly legitimate disagreement between two professional Huntsmen. I haven't got a grudge against her in the slightest." Qrow shrugged dismissively.

"I think Yang means _she_ may still have a grudge against _you_." 

Their mutual uncle waved it off, "Just some ideological differences, firecracker. No need to look into it too much. We just didn't want to see eye to eye on some things, but lets just say I've had a change of opinion recently, and I've come to see some merit in her views."

"You sure?" 

"Look, its cute, and honestly precious, that you two are trying to look out for me. And as much as it kills me inside to say it, I've been around in this world a lot longer than you two have. I can take care of myself, okay?" Qrow reassured them both before glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "Speaking of which, I need to get moving. You two stay out of trouble, okay?" 

"Okay." Ruby sighed,

"Alright." Yang nodded once, but couldn't help adding a jab. "But if she shoots you again, don't come back to the Dorms bleeding out. It takes days to get it out of the carpets!" 

"Your faith in me is _inspiring_." was Qrow's deadpan reply.

Yang chuckled and Ruby cheered after him. "Have fun!"

* * *

Cinder wore the black dust-infused gown she'd worn during the night of the school dance and waited by the docks at nine in the evening like Qrow had instructed her. Though her patience was stretched to breaking point.

The son of a bitch hadn't shown up until an hour later, when the dock was practically void of life.

The optics weren't exactly grand either. Cinder looked like some poor pitiful woman being stood up for a date, and the obvious and not-so-obvious glances of pity sent her way fueled her anger. She loathed those looks in their eyes. She couldn't wait until their plan was in effect and all of these worthless people were consumed by the Grimm and the hellfire that followed.

"Oh my gods, you can actually look like a person and not some painted prostitute. I'd say stellar improvement, but a polished turd's still a turd." The acerbic tone and the insult were about as appreciated as a catheter full of wasps. 

Cinder turned her fury towards her would-be colleague. Though she was having serious doubts about his inclusion in this mission.

Salem's programming was effective, and Cinder had made several amendments to her plans according to his information, but Qrow Branwen's irascible attitude showed through constantly. A lingering side effect perhaps? Maybe some tiny piece of him was still bitter that he failed to save that worthless Fall Maiden girl, and he was taking it out on her in passive-aggressive - and not so passive - ways. The thought may have made her fractionally smile, but it didn't change the fact he grated on her nerves. And she couldn't silence him.

She swore her urge to kill him had peaked after their last encounter, and imagine her surprise to find that he still grated on her nerves to such an extend.

"What kind of time do you call this?!" Cinder hissed,

Qrow made a showing of checking his scroll, a black cashing with silver patterns on the corners and back. "Its, uh... 22:08? Gods, who set my scroll to twenty-four hour time? Ick. Better change that back quick." 

Cinder batted the thing out of his hand, sending it clattering away. He simply watched it bounce. "Rude."

"How dare you mock me that way." Cinder growled.

"Well, how would you like me to mock you? I take requests." Qrow replied cheerfully, gaze still on his discarded scroll then glared at Cinder. "By the way, if that thing's broken, you own me two thousand lien for the scroll. That was a custom paintjob. And those fucking insurance cheapskates get real uppity about replacing those." 

"You told me to be here an hour ago, and you have the nerve to --"

"Alright, alright. Calm your farm, bitch queen _._ I had to make a few calls. Shockingly enough, a clandestine group of underworld ringleaders don't like meeting out in the open." Qrow told her, "Who fuckin' knew, right? The White Fang could sure take some notes about it, but who am I kidding - One of Jimmy's little automatons could handle complex operations better than those idiots could." 

Cinder felt the Maiden's fire burning at her fingertips. "I have a name, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you use it." 

Qrow turned away and moved to retrieve his scroll, giving it a cursory look over before walking back to the transports to Vale. "Oh I know. But using your name implies I respect you on some level. And I really don't. So put that stolen power of yours away, sweet cheeks. And lets get a move on. Otherwise we'll miss the party, and personally, I'm too damn hungry to deal with your whinging." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the prisoner dude with the amnesiac Qrow is named Zagreus (and totally not named from the MC from Hades cause I love that game), Qrow has an old flame called Lavendel in the city - wonder if she'll come in, and once more, he's mercilessly mocking Cinder. A hobby I'm sure we all share.


End file.
